


Cat sitting - Loki fanfic

by ilse_writes



Series: Loki & Ylva alternate universe stories [7]
Category: Loki - Fandom
Genre: Black Cat - Freeform, Cat Sitting, Coffee & Books spin-off, Coffee Shop, F/M, Loki & Ylva alternate universe story, Lokitty, Shapeshifting gone wrong, Slices of bread always land on the buttered side, Thor asks Ylva to take care of his cat, crazy cat lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-01 18:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17872118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilse_writes/pseuds/ilse_writes
Summary: Thor asks Ylva to take care of his cat while he is away. Little does Ylva know that the black cat is anything but a normal cat!





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> A new alternate universe story with the characters of my story Coffee & Books! In this one Ylva doesn't know (about) Loki and... well... Loki isn't in a position to introduce himself properly. Enjoy!

 

Having Avengers over as customers at Coffee & Books isn't unusual; after all, the coffee shop is located around the block from Stark Tower and they really  _do_ have the best muffins in town. Thor is a regular, often accompanied by a shorter man called Clint - Ylva only learned he was the famous archer Hawkeye after she had served him coffee a dozen times already - or the woman with the ever changing hair colour, Natasha.  
The staff at Coffee & Books is used to their famous clientèle, already considering it normal that a certain Norse god is totally in love with their blueberry muffins - if he orders one, Ylva serves two. Clint likes chocolate chip cookies and Natasha only snacks in liquid form: always ordering a special coffee variety with added flavours.

The other Avengers only drop by occasionally, Ylva guesses they are too busy to come by often. That's why they also make deliveries to Stark Tower; Ylva is often the one to go there, she even has a special visitors pass that allows her to deliver the coffee herself to the higher floors of the building.  
Today is different though, this time Thor and Clint are accompanied by Mr. Stark himself. They are seated at the side of the counter, where there are a couple of barstools that look out over the area behind the bar. Thor often sits there, probably because that way he is closest to the staff; his reliable source of caffeine and edible goodies. Clint always takes the last stool, his back to the wall. He sees  _everything_.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Ylva greets the three with her usual cheer. "What can I get you today?"  
A couple of minutes later she serves them their regular black coffee, a tall black coffee and an espresso, along with a chocolate chip cookie and two blueberry muffins. And after she sees Stark eye Thor's treats, she puts a muffin in front of him too. "On the house."

"You are too kind, Ylva," Stark says graciously. "Say, how was your date with that photographer?"

"Ugh! Don't get me started on that guy!" Ylva rolls her eyes. Last time she went to take a delivery to Stark Tower, it was at the end of her shift. She had a date right after that and of course Stark had asked why she wasn't wearing her Coffee & Books attire.

"What did he do?" Thor asks curiously. "Did he forget your name after five minutes like that other guy?" It's not the first time she has told him and his companions about her dating experiences in the big city. It makes for fun conversation topics, even though it sucks that her dates often turn out to be duds.

"Oh, he remembered my name all right," she assures the Norse god. "I think he wrote it down, right next to the names of the other girls."

Stark chuckles. "He wasn't betting his money on one horse?"

"I guess not!" Ylva shakes her head. "I mean, it's not like we were exclusive or anything like that. We only went on two dates. But it would be nice if he didn't schedule his dates back to back!"  
The three men start to laugh at her words, even though she fakes an angry glare. "It's not funny! He literally said goodbye to me and walked to the next girl! I swear, she was waiting at the other side of the street!"

"Did she see you too?" Clint asks, trying to keep his lips in a straight line. Without succes.

"No, she had her back to us. I only saw her because I was watching him go, waiting for him to look back so I could wave at him." Saying it like that makes Ylva feel silly all over again. She had been humiliated and angry, though she didn't do anything about it at the time. She had just walked down into the subway station and taken the train home, blocking the guy's phone number as soon as she sat down on the train.

"You want me to beat him up for you?" Thor's sincere question makes Ylva laugh and she quickly turns his offer down. "It seems to me the men in this city could use some lessons in courtship and manners!" the Asgardian states clearly.

"They sure do, Thor!" Another customer comes up to the counter and Ylva turns to the cash register, talking over her shoulder. "Maybe you can let me know when you find a guy with decent manners."

The God of Thunder salutes her with his coffee cup. "Will do, my lady!"

A little later the three Avengers are talking in hushed voices to each other. It must be a serious topic if it makes Thor frown, although Stark is sounding smooth as always. Ylva can't really hear what they are talking about and she's not one for eavesdropping. However, in between the noisy business of grinding coffee beans, some sentences reach her ears anyway.

_"Can't leave him alone for the week. What would he do? Hunt for food? There are no mouses at Stark Tower!"_

_"Can't take him with us, Thor, you know that."_

_"I'm allergic to cats, I'm not babysitting that guy!"_

_"We need Natasha to fly the jet, so she can't do it either."_

Ylva thinks nothing of their strange conversation until she comes back from serving some tables and the three men are all looking at her very expectantly. Or more like two men, the Norse god in the middle doesn't seem quite convinced yet.  
"More coffee?" she asks, already reaching over for the freshly brewed pot.

"Yes please," Stark answers with a badly hidden smile. "But we also have a question for you."

"Let's hear it," she says, already bracing herself for what is to come; by the looks of them she can tell it's an unusual request. She fills up Clint's and Thor's cups and takes Stark's espresso cup for a refill.

Stark waits for her to put his coffee in front of him again before he puts his question out there. "Do you like cats?"

Ylva is taken aback by his words. That was not what she expected. Like, at all. "Uh, sure! We used to have two cats at home when I was a kid. Cats are cool, I guess."

"Good, good." Stark seems satisfied with her answer as he turns to Thor. "See? She likes cats. It'll be fine!"

"I don't know..." Thor's frown is back, glancing from her to Stark.

"Oh come on, buddy! What is he gonna do? Scratch her?! You said it yourself, he's stuck, he can't do anything."

"Yeah, Thor, it'll be all right. All he does is sulk and glare. Normal cat behaviour, if you ask me," Clint adds helpfully.

"What is this about?" Ylva doesn't understand what's going on. They seem to be talking about a cat, but what has that got to do with her?

Thor takes a deep breath before he turns back to her. "Would you be so kind to look after my... my cat?" he asks clumsily. "We're going away for a few days and... Well, I can't leave him by himself in Stark Tower."

"Your cat? I didn't know you had a pet!" Her remark is somehow very funny, if the reactions of Clint and Stark are anything to go by, though Thor is still looking a bit pained.

The big guy scratches the back of his head. "Well... It's kind of a temporary situation. It will get sorted out soon, but in the meantime I need someone to look after... him."  
Thor explains her how they are going on a mission tomorrow, for about a week. And because the cat can't stay in Stark Tower, he needs someone to look after the animal.

"I can do that, sure, why not?" Ylva shrugs. "You can drop him off, with his... I don't know, what does he eat? Meow Chow?"

Stark almost squirts his coffee through his nose at her words and Clint is not faring any better. When the billionaire has recovered enough to talk, he still has trouble forming a sentence without laughing. "He doesn't eat regular cat food. Think of him as a very spoiled cat."

"What does he eat then? Like fish and raw meat?" Ylva puts her hands on her hips. "Next thing you tell me he wants to be bathed everyday and sleep in my bed."

"Wouldn't be surprised," Stark chuckles before Thor interrupts him.

"I'll supply the food. And a spot on your couch should be fine, my lady."

 

***

 

And that's how Ylva opens the door the next morning to the God of Thunder, carrying a cooler in one hand and a pet crate in the other. The cooler is filled with quality meat and fresh fish, which Ylva puts in her fridge without questioning. If the food is provided, she's not gonna nag about this cat's snobbish eating habits. The pet crate turns out to contain a very cranky black long haired cat. It is a beauty though, she can see that despite the evil looks it gives her with his green eyes, hunched over at the back of the crate.

Thor has put the crate on the kitchen table, giving them the opportunity to observe the cat as it keeps sitting pressed up against the back of its transporter.  
"He doesn't like the crate," Thor says, showing the fiery red scratches on the back of his hand.

"Understandable," Ylva says, leaning over to look inside the pet carrier. "I wouldn't like to be carted around in a plastic box either."  
She straightens out and turns back to Thor. "Let's take him to the living room, we can let him out there."

In the other room Ylva makes sure all the doors and windows are closed before Thor opens the pet crate. A black blur jets through the room and leaps on top of the bookcase in two large jumps. There the cat crouches down, two green eyes squeezed to angry slits.  
"I'm afraid he's not a very nice cat," Thor apologizes, staring hard at the cat. "I hope he won't give you any trouble."

Ylva waves his worries away. "We'll be fine. He just needs to get acclimatized a bit."  
As if he understands her, the cat huffs and turns his back to them, his long bushy tail jerking from side to side in front of the top shelf. He might clean off some dust while he's doing that. Ylva smirks. "He can't be any worse than my brother's cat. Gizmo somehow hated wet feet. He would attack you every time you came out of the shower."

"You hear that, brother?! Don't you dare getting in the bathroom with her!"

"His name is Brother?" Her question leaves Thor flustered, a weird sight on the Norse god.

"Uh... no. His name is Lo... Lokitty."

"Lokitty? Okay." Seems like a silly name for such a majestic cat, though Ylva is not going to judge. Fancy food, silly name, maybe it's a Norse thing. She doesn't know much about Thor's background anyway, all she knows he is a friendly guy who fights with the Avengers and loves blueberry muffins. And if she can help him out by looking after his cat for a few days, that's no trouble at all; it will be nice to have some furry company.

Thor leaves without giving out much instructions - for her at least, the cat gets told repeatedly to behave himself. Ylva suspects Thor hasn't owned the cat for that long yet. He didn't bring a litter box, so Ylva fashions one from the bottom of the pet crate and some old newspapers. She puts the litter box in a corner of the room, under the cat's watchful stare.  
"That's for you," she tells the animal on top of the cabinet. "Don't you dare shitting on the carpet!"

If she didn't know any better she would think the cat raised an eyebrow at her.

 

***

 

Ylva only has to work the afternoon shift and the whole morning the cat has not left his high seat on top of the bookcase. His green eyes follow her across the room, giving her the silent treatment while Ylva talks to the animal, figuring it will help him get used to her. He's a broody little fellow, that's for sure.

After work Ylva is fully prepared to find cat excrements somewhere in the living room, but she doesn't see or smell anything. The cat has moved from the top of the cabinet to the windowsill.  
"How about we give you some more room?" Ylva asks the cat, opening the door to the hall. From there the cat can go to the kitchen and Ylva opens the door to her bedroom and the bathroom too. "You can't go in Lisa's room, she doesn't like that. But you can look everywhere else while I prepare dinner."

The cat only blinks at her from the windowsill and Ylva goes to the kitchen to make herself some dinner. While that is on the stove, she looks in the fridge to see what she can give the cat. She chooses cooked white fish, talking out loud to let the cat know. She doubts he will understand it, but she figures it can't hurt to talk to her new temporary roommate. She's home alone anyway, with Lisa staying over at Marc's place. Which is why it is weird to hear the toilet flush. She sticks her head out of the doorway and catches the black cat strutting out of the bathroom.

"Did you just...?"

The cat doesn't answer of course, showing her his nicely curled tail as he walks back to the living room.

When dinner is ready Ylva puts her plate on the small table in the kitchen. The fish for the cat she has put down on the floor, in a small bowl.   
"Here, kitty, kitty!" she calls out to the cat that once again sits in the windowsill. "Your dinner is ready!"  
The cat doesn't react, he only stares at her, so Ylva shrugs and says 'suit yourself' before she sits down for her own dinner. While she eats, she searches the internet for cats that can flush the toilet. It turns out there are cats out there who use the toilet instead of a litter box and apparently Thor's black cat is one of them. If it saves her to have to clean out a dirty litter box, she'll be happy to leave the bathroom door ajar for the animal.

Ylva only sees the cat again when she comes back to the living room with a pot of tea. The black feline is lying in the windowsill, his butt propped up against a potted plant. He still looks cranky, although that could also just be his dark looks. It's a cat of course, what can he be angry about?  
She tells him again his dinner can be found in the kitchen and she tries a little to get him to sit with her on the couch, yet the animal only stares at her with unreadable eyes and stays put in his spot. "Your choice, kitty," Ylva tells him, before she turns on the tv and ignores the cat for the rest of the evening. 


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slices of bread always land on the buttered side.

The next day is much of the same: the cat keeps an eye at her from his chosen spot, either the windowsill or the bookcase, and only moves around the house when she's out of sight. On the plus side: he keeps using the toilet instead of the litter box and he eats his food without making a mess. He's not much trouble, even though Ylva would like it better if the cat would finally warm up to her. So she keeps talking to the cat, cause for Lisa to make fun of her for it.  
"I don't understand why you keep talking to that animal like he can understand you. All he does is glare at us."

"He glares  _at you_ , yes," Ylva objects. "I like to think he's only watching me."

Her cousin starts to laugh. "Sure, that hellcat tolerates you better because you're the one to feed it!"

"Or because I talk to it! Isn't that right, kitty?" The cat blinks at her, sitting a few yards away in the window.

Lisa shakes her head with a smile. "All those bad dates made you a crazy cat lady."

"At least this cat is not dating other girls behind my back!"

"You don't know that, who knows what kind of pussy this stud is chasing when you're at work!" Lisa lets herself get chased out of the room by a laughing Ylva. "I'm going to Marc's," she says by the door. "You and your cat boyfriend have a nice evening!"

Ylva turns into the kitchen, calling out to the cat. "If you want to have a choice in your dinner, better get your butt in here. Otherwise I'm choosing."  
She doesn't expect the animal to turn up, but a few minutes later the black cat pads around the corner and jumps up a chair. "Going to help me make dinner, buddy?"  
Of course the cat doesn't say anything, yet Ylva keeps talking anyway while she prepares her food. With the pasta sauce simmering on the stove, she opens the fridge to get something for the cat. "What's it gonna be buddy? Looks like you got a choice of steak tartare and salmon. Boy, Thor really spoils you." Ylva takes out the fish and meat, holding it up for the cat one at a time. "Fish or meat, Lokitty?"  
Against her expectations, the cat actually responds to her question, putting his paws up on the table when she holds up the salmon. "Okay, salmon it is! You can have the steak tartare tomorrow."

Ylva chats on, finishing the dinner preparations. Then she puts her plate on the table, and Lokitty's bowl with chopped up salmon on the floor next to the table. "Bon appétit," she says to the cat, before twisting her fork into her spaghetti.  
After a few bites, the cat's stare starts to get annoying. The black animal is still sitting on the chair across from her and when he sees he has her attention, he looks pointily from his bowl on the floor back to the table. He does it a couple of times, making sure Ylva understands what he is telling her.  
"It's a good thing Lisa can't see me do this," she mutters, taking the bowl from the floor and putting it in front of the cat on the table.  
The cat is happy though, his features changing into something that resembles contentedness before he carefully puts his front paws on the table and lowers his head into his bowl.

Ylva takes her last bite of pasta as the cat cleans his jaws, his little pink tongue curling out. "Too bad you can't help me do the dishes," she says, taking up their plates from the table. "Although you did clean out your bowl completely."

When Ylva settles on the sofa to watch some tv, the cat jumps up on the armrest and folds his paws under him. It seems like their dinner date made him decide she is okay to be around. He is sitting on the other side of the couch, but still; they're making progress! She's happy for that, because the best thing about cat sitting are the cat cuddles and she was starting to fear this cat would stay put in the windowsill for the entire week. There's not much on tv, so Ylva settles for a cooking show. The cat is not interested and at some point he starts cleaning his fur. He also makes another visit to the bathroom, the sound of the flushing toilet still nothing short of amazing to Ylva.  
When he comes back he curls up in a corner of the couch and it's there that Ylva leaves him when she goes to bed.

 

***

 

The next morning Ylva has an early shift and she doesn't see much of the cat in the early morning. When her cousin comes down to the coffee shop to take over from her, she updates Ylva on her relationship with their feline houseguest. "He hates me! I swear he gave me the death stare when I came in just now to change in my uniform. He even hissed at me! Also, does that cat use the toilet?"

Ylva chuckles. "He does, yes. Cool, right?!"

"That cat gets weirder every minute," Lisa answers, tying on her apron. "Where did Thor get that cat? I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't even from Earth!"

"I don't know. It looks like a regular cat, don't you think? Just a long haired cat, a little big, kind of like those Norwegian Forest Cats." Ylva hangs her apron away. "It's a pretty animal. And last night he even came to sit on the couch, so I think he's starting to like me."

"Cats only tolerate people, they don't really like 'm."

"You're just saying that because you like dogs better."

"Well, they are always happy to see you when you get home, contrary to that hellspawn of a cat that is now living in our home!"

"You're overreacting," Ylva says, making a face at her cousin. And Lisa sure is, because when Ylva gets up to the apartment, the black cat sits up in the window when he sees her come in.

"Hi buddy! Did you miss me?" Unfortunately, it looks like her cheer is misdirected. The cat ignores her, darts over to the hallway and sits on its haunches in front of the bathroom door. He refuses to look at her, staring intently at the door handle. "Oh, did we close the door on you?" Ylva opens the door for the cat and it almost runs inside.

Curious to find out how he works the toilet, she follows him inside. The cat has jumped up on the toilet seat and he's about to squat when he suddenly sees her. His tail gets big - as if it wasn't big and bushy enough already - and his back arches high. A menacing hiss chases her out of the room. "Jeez! Sorry! I didn't know you were so big on privacy! You're a cat, for fucks sake!"

As it turns out, cats do care about privacy, because Lokitty flat out ignores her when he comes out of the bathroom. He's a really expressive cat, Ylva can tell he's peeved. It's what prompts her to apologize and it doesn't even feel that ridiculous to do. "I'm sorry, kitty. Can I make it up to you with a treat?"  
Despite the promise of a nice snack he continues to scowl. "All right, if you want something, you can find me in the kitchen."

Ylva is not exactly sure  _how_  it happens, though the end result is both hilarious and painful. She is in the middle of making a PB&J sandwich - one slice with peanut butter, one with jelly - when she takes a step backwards from the counter and trips over the cat. In her attempt to grab at something she hits her wrist at the open drawer with cutlery and the plate with her not yet ready lunch goes flying. Of course, slices of bread land on the buttered side, which is why there is a slice of bread sticking to the back of the - screeching - cat like a bread shaped saddle.  
Ylva ends up on the floor, flat on her butt, next to the knife with a lump of peanut butter and a half smeared slice of bread - also upside down.  
Lokitty jumps up and down like a maniac to get rid of the sticky bread saddle, sending it flying against the wall. Now there is jelly on the cat and the wall and peanut butter on the floor. Freed of his saddle, the cat sprints back to the living room, chased by a shouting Ylva. "No! You'll get jelly all over the place! Get back here!"

She finds the cat on top of the bookcase, twisting his body furiously so he can reach his soiled back. When he licks at the jelly he scrunches up his nose so bad, Ylva can't help but laugh. Now the cat tries to get the taste of jelly of his tongue, rubbing it with his paw and sticking it out as far as possible. The majestic cat looks quite ridiculous.  
Ylva stretches her arms out to the dirty animal. "Here, let me help you. I bet jelly doesn't taste good to a cat."

It's not the first time Ylva suspects the cat understands what she's saying, as he stops what he's doing and looks down at her pensively. She tries to coax him down again, this time with success. The cat jumps down and even lets himself be picked up by her. He's a big cat, filling up her arms with soft black fur. His furry coat is excellent cuddle material, yet Ylva holds herself back; she doesn't want to scare him off when he's covered in jelly.

Ylva takes him to the bathroom and sets him down on the closed lid of the toilet. "All right, let's get you cleaned up!"  
First, she tries to clean the jelly off with a towel, to no avail. There are no more red clumps in his fur, yet the cat is still sticky. "I'm gonna need to wash you," Ylva says to the cat, gesturing to the sink. She lets the tap run to show her intentions. "Think you can fit in the basin?"

From the look on it's face - snout? - she can tell he thinks it's not her best plan. However, the bathroom is not big enough to fit a tub and she doesn't think the cat will like the showerhead, so the washbasin will have to do. She taps the edge of the basin with her hand, letting the water run so it can get warm. "Come on, get up here. I'll get that sticky stuff out of your coat."

It takes her gentlest voice and multiple times of telling the cat the water is nice and warm, before he jumps up. She has cleaned all the stuff from the ridge, so the cat can sit there without having to get in the sink right away. By now, Ylva is fully convinced this is a very special cat. She is sure he understands everything she says and his expressions have some kind of human quality to them. Maybe Lisa was right and this cat really is from Thor's home planet, maybe cats there are more intelligent or something. Either way, this is one sticky animal right now and she'll need to get him cleaned up.

She starts by running her wet hands over his fur, slow and gentle, until the animal lets her place him underneath the running tap. Soon, there is nothing left of his majestic looks; his wet fur clings to his body, showing he is smaller than he appears. Ylva still thinks it's a beautiful animal and she loves how he lets her touch him now. He seems to be enjoying the warm water, so she continues to let it run over his back and head even though he is clean already.

Eventually, she turns off the faucet, having a large towel ready to wrap the cat in. The first towel is soaked almost immediately and Ylva regrets not having wringed most of the water out of his fur before wrapping him up in the towel. She puts the animal on the floor and takes a second towel from the rack. With slow movements and by constantly telling the cat what she's doing, she towels him dry, taking care not to knot his long coat.

When she's done, the animal is still not completely dry. "You're going to catch a cold like this," Ylva thinks out loud. She looks around the bathroom for ideas. Maybe she can wrap him up in a blanket, or... "I wonder if you're scared of the blow dryer."  
She strokes the side of the cat's head, cupping his whiskers. "Sit still, I'm gonna try something."

Ylva takes her blow dryer from the cabinet under the sink and plugs it in. Luckily she has a hair dryer with multiple settings and in the lowest setting the noise should be tolerable. She scratches the damp fur around the cat's head and turns the blow dryer on, the nozzle facing away from the animal. It startles him a bit and his tail jerks nervously, though he stays put.

Accompanied by constant petting she slowly directs the hair dryer at the long tail. Lokitty turns his body away from the warm stream of air, although he stays close to her hand.  
It takes a lot of patience and a lot of petting, but eventually the cat lets her blow dry his coat. In the end she can even aim the hair dryer at his whiskers, fluffing them up real good.  
"You sir, are one fine looking cat, if I may say so myself," Ylva compliments him as she puts the hair dryer away. She rubs him over the head one last time before getting on her feet. "Now, let's see what we can do about the mess in the kitchen."

Compared to cleaning and drying the cat, the mess in the kitchen is a lot easier and faster to take care of. With a new sandwich for her and some fresh meat for the cat, Ylva flops down on the couch. The cat has taken to it to follow her around and he cleans out his bowl before jumping on the sofa too.  
Ylva sighs when she glances at the clock. "That whole business took longer than I thought!" While she eats her sandwich she inspects her wrist; there's a red spot on the side of her lower arm, no doubt that will be a nice bruise tomorrow. She holds her arm out to the cat. "Here, see what you did? No more secretly walking right behind me!"

The animal cocks his head, looking at her arm. Then he gets on his feet and closes the distance between them, sniffing her wrist. The next second Ylva feels his rough tongue on her skin. He thoroughly licks the sensitive area, stopping every now and then to push his head against her arm. After a few minutes Ylva stops him, turning her hand to scratch the cat behind his ears. "Thanks, buddy. You can't clean away a bruise, but thanks for trying."


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The benefit of being a cat is always wearing a fur coat.

The PB&J sandwich accident turns out to be a real bonding experience; the angry cat that came into her home a few days ago has disappeared, making place for a nice furry companion. Lokitty waits for her to come home from work and he follows her around the house, keeping her company and listening to her chat away. Ylva fears the newly developed habit of talking out loud when she's alone with the cat will stay after the cat has gone back to Thor. That doesn't stop her from doing it though, especially not because of the non-verbal feedback she gets from the animal. He really has a way with expressions and body language, making her sometimes feel she is talking to a person instead of an animal. The cat doesn't meow much, he only makes small sounds of confirmation or question every now and then. The name Lokitty still sounds silly to Ylva, so she has shortened it to Lo, or Loke. The cat doesn't seem to mind anyway.

Reading a book with the cat on her lap is their new favourite thing to do in the evening. Ylva fell asleep on the couch the other day, waking up a little after midnight with her book on her chest and the black cat warm on her stomach. When she moved to the bedroom, the cat went with her, curling up in the space behind her pulled up knees as soon as she settled in underneath the covers.

Ylva can even sit in the open window of her bedroom, something she likes to do when it starts to get dark outside, and the cat comes to sit next to her. You would think the open window with the fire escape is an invitation to run off, but the animal sits contentedly at her side, letting her trace her fingers through his fur.  
He still doesn't like Lisa that much, he only comes to sit with Ylva, something that she secretly enjoys. She likes being favoured by the cat and she's well on her way to get too attached to the animal.

The setting sun makes the warmth of the day slowly disappear, although it lingers in the bricks of the building. Ylva can feel it against the back of her lower legs that rest against the wall beneath the windowsill. Her aunt doesn't like her sitting with her legs outside her window, even though the fire escape has a small platform right beneath her window. However, aunt Yvonne isn't here to see and Lisa is somewhere back in the apartment with Marc. It's just Ylva, Lokitty and the sunset above New York.

Ylva has her arm slung around the cat, her fingers buried in the soft fur of his chest. She has discovered he likes being scratched there the most, especially when she moves up to his chin and neck too.  
"Thor sent me a text today," she says to the cat, the animal looking up at her face at her words. "He'll be home in two days." Ylva smiles ruefully at the cat. "I guess we'll have to make the most of those days. I'm gonna miss you when you go home."

The cat answers by pushing his head against her stomach, his strong purr palpable underneath her hand on his chest. Her emotions almost get the best of Ylva, making her eyes prick and she has to swallow a couple of times to get the heavy feeling out of her throat. It's silly. It's just a cat, no matter how understanding his eyes seem when she talks to him. She really  _is_  turning into a crazy cat lady.

 

***

 

The last days go by fast, filled with work mostly, and before Ylva knows it, it's the last night. She climbs into bed with the cat in his spot behind her legs. She can feel his warmth through the blanket, warming her thighs and lower legs. He is like a mini space heater, his large body filling up the space in the curve of her legs. She tells him good night, something he returns with a small meow.

Tomorrow morning Thor will come to pick him up. Ylva has already run multiple scenarios in her mind, from offering Thor to look after his cat every time he has a mission, to blatantly ask him if the cat could stay with her forever. After all, Thor had said the cat wasn't very nice and maybe that was just because they were not a good match? She and the cat get along very well, clearly they're a match!  
Ylva doubts she will have the courage - or gal - to ask for her to keep the cat, though offering to look after the animal more often is easy. That's just a nice thing to say, after all, and she's good at saying nice things; being a waitress at a coffee shop teaches you that.

Sleep doesn't come easy that night and Ylva silently chastises herself for being such a sap and getting too attached. She eventually falls asleep after concentrating on the comforting warmth from the cat on top of the blankets.

She doesn't know exactly what wakes her up early in the morning, other than the fact that something is different. Something  _feels_  different.  
Her brain is still hazy from sleep as she turns to her back, finding that she doesn't have enough room to move her legs with her. Something is in her way, and it's bigger than the cat.  
She feels around on the blanket, finding something firm beside her. It's warm and it has a familiar shape. The startled yell is out before she knows it, and the firm shape - a human ankle, that's why she yelled - suddenly jolts away, followed by a heavy thud on the floor and a disgruntled voice that says something in a foreign language.

Ylva's voice is stuck in her throat as she stares wide eyed through the dark at the large figure that gets to his feet beside her bed. It's a man, who rolls his shoulders and stretches his limbs as if he has been sitting in the same position for too long.  
Although Ylva's mind pulls a blank, her hand automatically finds the light switch for the small reading light next to her bed. She immediately wishes she had not done that, because brownish red eyes focus on her, surrounded by blue skin adorned with thin, white geometric lines. A scared whimper escapes her lips as she backs up against the headboard of her bed, every sense of logic escaping her at the sight of the alien in her room.

The alien looks at her questioningly, before looking down at his own body. He's barenaked, his body unmistakingly that of a fit male. The brownish red eyes look at her again and he seems to shrug, the colour of his skin gradually changing to a more human skin tone.  
Before Ylva can scream a large hand clamps down over her mouth. "Ssh, you'll wake up your cousin if you do that."  
The alien sits with one knee on her bed, his now green eyes looking intently at her face. Ylva barely knows how to breathe, her heart thudding loudly in her chest; any louder and she cracks a rib. She might pass out from fear at this point, were it not that the alien has a very gentle, deep voice that speaks calmly to her.  
"I'm sorry for scaring you, I assure you you're perfectly safe."  
The pressure from the hand on her mouth lifts a little. "If I release you, will you promise me not to scream? There is nothing to be scared of, Ylva, you have my word."

She gasps behind his hand, speaking as soon as he takes it away. "How do you know my name?"

"You told it to me. As you have told me many things." The alien sits back, his hands folded in his lap. "You have been very good to me, I owe you my thanks."

"What the fuck?!" It's not the most eloquent response, but Ylva feels she is excused for her lack of manners in this situation. There is a naked -  _very_  naked - man sitting on her bed, with long raven hair that hangs down just past his shoulders. He has an athletic build, his lythe torso riddled with old scars, the faded lines somewhat similar to the white lines that covered his body when he was blue. The man watches her with a gentle expression, his head cocked to the side a little; together with the green eyes it feels somehow familiar to have him look at her like that.  
"Who... - what are you?"

The alien cracks a smile and puts a hand to his chest as he introduces himself. "My name is Loki, son of Odin and prince of Asgard."

When she just stares at him, not able to comprehend the information he just shared with her, he continues. "Though you might know my brother better, Thor, the big oaf with the hammer."

"Thor..." Ylva stammers. "You... you're Thor's brother?"  
The alien nods, patient with her overloaded brain circuits.  
"Why are you here? How did you came in?"

"I've been here all week," the man says with a small shrug.

For a second Ylva thinks that means there was an alien hiding underneath her bed the whole week. Then it suddenly clicks.  
"Fuck! The cat! You're... you're..!"

"I haven't been exactly feeling like myself the past week, yes," the man says with a smirk.

"You bastard!" Ylva flings her pillow at him.

A sudden knock on the door silences them both. "Ylva? Are you all right?"  
Ylva stares at the man slash former cat on her bed. Of course she is not all right.  
"Ylva? I heard you shouting, something wrong?"

_The cat I took care of past week turned out to be a guy. A really hot guy too. Who's sitting on my bed, not even bothering to cover himself up._

"Nothing!" Ylva calls out, immensely glad she and her cousin have a rule of not coming into each others bedrooms. "I stubbed my toe when I got up to pee. Sorry I woke you!"

She can faintly hear the loud annoyed sigh from Lisa on the other side of the door. "Please suffer in silence next time. I really thought you had an axe murderer in your room!"

"Sorry!" Ylva calls out again, glaring angrily at the man who has the audacity to laugh at her, his low chuckle not loud enough for Lisa to hear. "Shut up!" she hisses at him as Lisa's footsteps fade away. "This is not funny!"

"I beg to differ," the man says, though he makes an effort to stop laughing. Audibly, at least. "Being stuck in a feline body for a whole week,  _that's_  not funny. This on the other hand, very much is."

"You really were a cat?" She looks the man over. No matter how unbelievable it sounds, she is inclined to believe it's true. It would certainly explain why she feels pretty comfortable around him now the initial shock has worn off. When living in New York, you encounter the strangest people sometimes; though this formerly blue and previously feline fellow takes the cake.

The man formerly known as Lokitty nods once. "I'm a shapeshifter and I got stuck."

"How?"

"That's not important," he says quickly. "It was annoying, though luckily I had a very good caretaker." The man reaches out for her hand and wraps his long fingers around hers. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Ylva says automatically, a bit distracted by the feeling of his fingers leaving her again. "I already thought you were way too smart to be a normal cat... I hope you didn't mind eating from a bowl and stuff."

The man waves her worry away. "I was more cat than human, my memory of the whole week is a bit of a blur, actually. I just remember fragments. There was an accident with a sandwich?"

Now it's Ylva's turn to laugh, hiding her smile behind her hand. "Oh god, yes, that was something else."

The raven haired man laughs with her. "I think I remember you cleaning me up nicely. Thanks for that. And thank you for all the cuddles, that was nice."  
His sly wink makes Ylva's cheeks heat up. It also makes her remember he is very much naked, a fact that is emphasized when he gets up from her bed and walks around it towards the window.  
"I'll get out of your hair now. Thank you again for taking care of me, my lady."

"Wait! What was your name again?" Ylva quickly asks as he opens the window and starts to lift his leg to step out on the fire escape. "Also... you might want to put some clothes on... you know... before you go outside."

He looks down at himself with a smirk. "Ah, right. Thank you. One of the benefits of being a cat is always wearing a fur coat." A green light ripples over his body, changing his birthday suit into something Ylva can only describe as black and green leather armour, topped with a long heavy coat. He hoists himself out of the window before he turns back to her. "The name is Loki, my lady. And you will see me again soon."

And with that his head disappears from the window, leaving Ylva to stare after him. "I hope so..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! People have asked for me to write about their next meeting too... thinking about that... So there might be an fourth chapter in the future.


	4. Chapter 4 - bonus

You would be amazed by how many long haired men there are in New York. And how many of them have dark hair. Ylva has seen them all by now, she must have. The women too, by the way. There are quite a few tall women out there, with long dark hair that ripples over their shoulders. Every time the bell above the door of the coffee shop tingles Ylva looks up, her stomach making a weird flip when the customer in question has long dark hair. And every time that weird flip turns into a clumsy tumble, as her stomach sinks a little when she sees that the person in question is in fact  _ not  _ her feline house guest.

It’s been a week now. A week since Thor came to pick up his empty pet crate, a stupid, sheepish grin on his face. Their talk was short and awkward, the Avenger looked like he didn’t know what to do with the whole situation.  _ Like Ylva knew! _   
He did apologize for the inconvenience, as if waking up to a naked man in her bedroom was something that mildly interrupted her daily schedule, like getting stuck in traffic or getting the wrong dress back from the dry cleaners. Thor had shortly explained that his brother had special powers, one of which gave him the ability to change his appearance to that of another human or - like he had done before he came into Ylva’s life - to that of an animal. Like his brother, Thor didn’t want to go into detail as to why Loki had been stuck inside the form of a cat. Ylva had drawn her own conclusions, figuring it would probably be something embarrassing; if Loki was anything like his cat persona, he was proud. And vain, that too. The cat had spent a great amount of time in the windowsill, admiring not only the view of the city, but also his own reflection.

Thor had also thanked her, partly in name of his brother, for the good care she had given the cat. “Loki told me you were an excellent host and company.”

“He was good company too,” Ylva had answered automatically, still dumbfounded by the fact that the cat she had gotten attached to so quickly was actually a man. 

That first day she had not really known how to feel. Confused by everything that had happened. Angry that Thor had not told her the cat was in fact… not a cat. Sad that the cat was gone now. Every emotion from the book came by, taking turns to affect her mood. It was a good thing she didn’t have to work that first day, because she probably would have burst to tears at some point. Better to do that in the safety of her own bedroom than in the middle of the coffee shop. She didn’t cry anymore after that first day, but she still didn’t know what she exactly felt about the whole thing. To be honest, a week later she still felt as emotionally unstable as the first day.

Obviously there was no way she was going back to sleep after Loki had climbed out of her window! She had even jumped out of bed after a few shell shocked minutes, to see if she could spot the former cat in his long leather coat somewhere on the streets. Though of course there was no sign of him; it made her think she had dreamed the whole thing. Not finding Lokitty anywhere proved that theory wrong, unless the cat had finally found the urge to go explore New York City and had taken off on its own. 

Lisa didn’t believe her when Ylva told her that the black cat turned out to be a handsome man, who left the apartment by climbing down the fire escape. Her exact words were: ‘Maybe you’re not so much a crazy  _ cat _ lady, but just a crazy lady’. Lisa must have realised how harsh her words sounded, because she had hugged Ylva, telling her it must have been some weird dream and that the black hellcat was probably hiding underneath the couch or something. Then she had left for the early shift at the coffee shop downstairs, leaving Ylva to stew in her own messed up thoughts. 

It was comforting that Thor confirmed the story, telling her that Loki had shown up in his usual form at Stark Tower early that morning. Though after Thor had gone home again, after fifteen awkward minutes at most, the events of that early morning had looked like a dream again. 

Long story short: she needed to see Loki again. For one: to prove she wasn’t crazy. That she hadn’t made the whole thing up, that it wasn’t some sort of crazy dream. Loki had said she would see him again soon, why would he have said that if he disappeared into nothing right after? Thor had been to the coffee shop two days ago for a coffee order to go - along with two blueberry muffins - and when asked he told her he had not heard of his brother since. And two: she missed the cat. It had only been a week, yet the apartment felt empty without the presence of the black feline. 

However, it has been a week and although Ylva has developed a keen eye for picking out long-haired customers, the one person she is looking for doesn’t show up. 

Unless you count the cat that is sitting in the back alley.

It’s there when Ylva locks up the back door of the coffee shop, giving her a miniature heart attack when she’s turns around. Her keys clatter to the ground. The words that leave her mouth are colourful, that’s for sure. 

“Holy fuck! It’s you!” she eventually exclaims, pressing a hand over her racing heart. “It  _ is _ you, right?” She peers at the black cat sitting in front of her, his long bushy tail draped around him like he’s sitting on some sort of extra fluffy pillow. It certainly looks like the cat she took care of last week; Ylva presumes there isn’t a nest full of similar looking black cats around the corner, this  _ must _ be Loki. If this isn’t him, the universe is certainly fucking with her. She doesn’t know what she has done to piss off Lady Karma this much if this isn’t her feline houseguest.  
The cat doesn’t say anything, only blinks at her. Ylva blinks back, her hand still pressed against her chest, trying to control the galloping pace of the diligent blood pump inside. It takes a minute or two of good, quality breathing before she can speak without her heartbeat being heard in every syllable. “Don’t tell me you got stuck again!” 

The exasperation in her tone amuses the cat, she can tell by the way he tilts his head, his eyes squeezed to slits. Yet still it remains silent, and it remains a cat. So much so, that Ylva starts to doubt herself. Seriously doubt herself. To the point of getting convinced she really  _ is _ crazy, that this whole thing has gotten to her head and now she is seeing things. Imagining stuff that couldn’t possibly be real. It hurts. More than she expected. 

There is no stopping the big, hot tears that suddenly spill from her eyes, their wet path down her cheeks quickly cooling in the night air. Ylva takes a big gulp of air to calm herself down, though it breaks in her throat and turns into a sob. She presses her hands against her eyes, shielding herself from the sight of the imaginary cat. That horrible figment of her imagination.

A figment of her imagination that wraps his arms around her, pulling her against a firm chest. A fully clothed chest this time; as Ylva turns her hands away from her face she comes in contact with supple fabric and small buttons. A dress shirt. Black. Her hands grab hold of suit jacket lapels, as black as the shirt, steadying herself even though the arms around her are holding her up just fine.  
There’s that deep, calm voice again. Soothing. It’s better than in her memory. “I’m sorry. I thought you would like it to see the cat again. It was not my intention to make you cry.”

All her communication skills are gone. Letting her forehead fall against his chest is everything she can muster, crumpling his lapels in her fists. If Loki is bothered by her ruining his suit - it’s probably expensive, it feels expensive - he doesn’t show it. His voice stays gentle. “Is it okay if we go up to the apartment? I’ll make you some tea.”

Loki takes her hand to guide her up the metal stairs at the back of the building, leading up to the back door of the apartment. It’s actually the fire escape, though Lisa and her use this door more than the actual front door. He lets go of her hand to open the door, the key ring with the bright pink plastic dinosaur the focus point of Ylva’s vision before Loki gently places his hand on her back to prompt her to go inside. 

It’s not until they are sitting across from each other at the small kitchen table, both with a steaming mug of tea in front of them, that Ylva finally comes out of her daze. The dark haired man in front of her is the same that was sitting on her bed a week ago. He is wearing an all black suit, his hair is tied back into a low ponytail and there’s no hint of blue skin, but it is unmistakingly him. He’s watching her with his green eyes, patiently waiting for her to compose herself. Ylva avoids his eyes, watching his hands instead. He has long, slender fingers that completely wrap around the warm mug. He doesn’t have the rough hands of a warrior, like Thor; although he must be a fighter too, the scars she saw on his torso attest to that. As her eyes wander over the rest of his appearance, mostly searching for clues that he is  _ real _ , they involuntarily get caught by the friendly, green eyes. Loki squints his eyes a little, a result of the handsome smile that plays around his lips.  _ Shit. He’s hot. _

“I like your hands,” she blurts out, regretting it the second the words leave her mouth. A blush creeps up from her neck at a fast pace, heating her face.

Luckily, Loki takes it as a compliment - a regular one, not the weird, intimate comment that was the result of Ylva’s brain short circuiting for a second. “Thanks. Better than cat paws, I suppose.”

“Nah, you make a pretty cat too.” Ylva contemplates biting her tongue off on the spot. To which god should she pray to have the earth beneath her open up and swallow her whole? “Okay. I will just shut up now. I sound like a crazy person.”  
She folds her hands gingerly around her tea mug and stares at the hot liquid inside.

“It’s okay. You’re just a little rattled, I get it.”

“Rattled… hah! Try crazy. Out of my mind. Bonkers. A fucking nutjob.” Ylva wishes she wasn’t proving her own point with her words, yet she can’t stop saying these strange things. All that talking out loud to the cat must’ve broken a filter between her brain and her mouth.

“You’re not crazy.” Loki has a calming way of speaking, although her frayed nerves don’t let themselves be soothed that easily.

Ylva snorts. It’s not cute. “I certainly  _ felt _ crazy this past week.”

His long slender fingers wrap themselves around her wrist. They’re warm. Firm.  _ Nice _ . “I’m sorry to hear that. Especially when you’re anything but.”

“You’re just saying that…” She still prefers staring at her tea above looking at him, to avoid those green eyes that seem to be able to see right through her.

His fingers grip a little tighter for a second. “I’m not. I’ve lived with you for a week, remember? I  _ know _ you. I know this house. How else did you think I knew where to find your stash of tea? Or which mug is your favourite?”

Ylva glances at the white mug with the cursive letters that imitate hand lettering. Her hands cover most of it, but she knows what it says.  _ Just one more chapter,  _ above the illustration of an opened book laying on its back. It was a present from Lisa, last Christmas. It’s true. This is her favourite cup, she always picks this one to drink her tea from. Loki has a black mug, one of a set of four regular black cups; it’s a little chipped at the bottom.  
She had not thought anything about it, yet Loki is more familiar in her house than he should be on his first visit. Of course, this is  _ not _ his first visit. He really spent a whole week here, 24 hours a day. He followed her around the house when she was at home, watching her do all the mundane things one does when one’s home alone. He has seen things only Lisa normally sees of her, like how she piles her hair on top of her head in one big sloppy bun when she’s done with smoothing the hair from her eyes for the day. Or how she dances to music in the middle of the living room. And of course he’s seen her in her most flattering outfits, like her pink joggers that are now in the hamper. The cat has been with her the whole time when she was at home. And who knows what he did when she was at work? 

She asks him.

She’s rewarded with a throaty chuckle. “Sleep, mostly. The window was a good spot in the afternoon, nice and warm in the sun. Your bed was a good second during the day... and the best spot at night.”

“Ah, yes.” Ylva scrapes her throat and chances a look at the man across from her. “It’s kinda weird that we… you know…” 

“Slept in the same bed? Seen each other naked?” Loki’s eyes glint with mischief. He has let go of her wrist and he leans back in his chair, one hand still curled around his tea mug. Ylva can’t help but notice - again - that he is very handsome.

“Yes, that…” Ylva abruptly looks up. “Wait! Seen  _ each other _ naked? I… You have… Naked?” Her brain furiously tries to remember if she paraded naked in front of the cat last week. Could be. Could be not. No, she probably has.  
“Well, that’s fucked up.”

“Would it help if I said the memory is hazy at best?” Loki smirks and Ylva can’t help but laugh with him. Despite everything she’s feeling quite at ease, sitting here with him.

She runs her hand over her face, stopping when she can peek over her fingers. “So you’ve slept in my bed and you’ve seen me naked. That’s more than my dates usually get. I feel a bit like the balance is off now, you know almost everything about me and I don’t know a thing about you!” It’s that odd sense of familiarity that makes her brave enough to say it. “Why’d you come back?”

“Because…” Loki stops and cocks his head a little to the side, reminding Ylva again of the cat. He scoffs softly before he continues. “I was gonna say it’s the decent thing to do when someone has lent you their hospitality when you needed it. That I wanted to thank you properly.”

“But…?” Ylva has no idea what he’s going to say. It’s nice to know he came back to thank her for taking care of him, even though he technically thanked her already when he was in her bedroom. 

“But now I just think I need to restore the balance between us. Because you’re right, I know more about you than you know about me. That can be fixed though.”  
Ylva’s puzzled look must drive him to make it a proper question. “Ylva, will you go out on a date with me?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes... I am aware I've left you to wonder what their date would be like. Maybe I'll write about it in the future. Maybe I won't. In the meantime: feel free to imagine your own version of their date! Of course I'd love it if you shared that with me :-D


End file.
